


Experimentation

by saaaammmyy



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Other, POV John Watson, Sherlock - Freeform, Sherlock AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 09:43:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saaaammmyy/pseuds/saaaammmyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson is a first year med student and Sherlock Holmes is a mysterious stranger he meets on the first day of his second semester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Experimentation

**Author's Note:**

> It's rated M and I promise there will be smut, but as with all great fanfics - we need the build up

The sky was laced with an orange hue that peculiar morning John Watson returned to campus. It was first day of his second semester as a medical student and he was eager to get started. The melting snow sloshed beneath his boots as he made his way over to the University’s medical school. He breathed in, stopping abruptly to gaze across the empty courtyard, wondering what new adventures he would undertake. He knew his schedule for this first week - he’d been assigned to the morgue. ‘Guess I’ll be making some new friends’ he muttered sarcastically. The med-students all hated the morgue; cold, lonely and always a little spooky - though, of course, no-one would ever admit that the hostility of the steel cabinets set them on edge. A dark figure caught his attention and he watched the man walk quickly towards the coffee house. His navy coat fluttered in the wind and he reached up to tighten his scarf just before entering the shop. Weeks later, John would wonder why he stopped to watch this strange man that morning. 

 

’12:30, lunch-time.’ he wrote in his log. John leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head, yawning. His stomach rumbled and he reached for his sandwich from his backpack. 

‘Tuna sandwich. Not a fan of tuna myself, the smell reminds me too much of a shipyard.’ 

John looked up, startled by the unfamiliar voice, into a pair of periwinkle blue eyes that stared intensely at him. 

‘You.’ stuttered John, still confused as to the man’s presence

‘Me what?’ replied the stranger, seemingly confused for a second ‘Oh you mean from the courtyard?’

‘You noticed?’ 

‘How could I not, what with you gawking at me like I was some sort of extraterrestrial creature.’

The man tugged at his scarf with one fluid motion and shook his head to remove the snow which rested on his brunette curls. 

‘Who are you? And what are you doing in my morgue?’ demanded John, after the initial shock of this mysterious person’s arrival had worn off. 

‘The name’s Sherlock Holmes and I need a body.’

 

It took ten minutes for John to confirm that Sherlock was not an escaped mental patient. Ten minutes and three phone calls to the nearest psychiatric facilities. 

‘You said you need a body?’ 

Sherlock paced around the room, evidently impatient. ‘Yes a body. How many times do I have to tell you. I need a body.’

‘What the hell for? Wait, I don’t think I want to know.’ John stood up, placed his hands on the autopsy table, and looked up at Sherlock. _This man is most definitely insane. He mightn’t be an in-patient but I know if I get him examined…_

‘Why is it so difficult for you to believe I’m not crazy.’ said Sherlock, as if reading John’s thoughts ‘I just need a body. You have about twenty neatly stored away here, don’t be selfish, just give me one and I’ll be on my way.’

John looked into Sherlock’s eyes and found himself staring. Uncomfortable, he ripped his gaze away from Sherlock and towards the cabinets. _One. Just one. I won’t let him take it from this room and I’ll make sure it goes back._ John gestured towards the bodies in defeat and watched as Sherlock bounded towards them like a child running towards a pile of presents on Christmas morning. It was only then that John realised Sherlock had never told him why he needed a body.

 

‘Well that was certainly…’ John paused for the right word. ‘Interesting.’ For the past hour, Sherlock had examined the man on the slab in absolute detail. He hadn’t only determined cause of death without making a single incision, ‘Head trauma, it’s elementary’, but also the man’s age, marital status, occupation, drinking problem, caffeine addiction and unfaithfulness towards his wife. For each one, he gave a detailed reason explained with logic to lead to an ultimate diagnosis that was unbelievably accurate. As Sherlock leant back over the body of thirty-two year old Marvin Winters, John found himself running his eyes over Sherlock’s figure. Tall and slim, he’d taken off his coat to expose a well-fitted white shirt underneath. He’d tried to avert his gaze, but John always found his eyes returning to Sherlock’s chest, seemingly about to burst open the front buttons of his shirt. 

‘Stop.’

The suddenness of Sherlock’s interjection broke John’s train of thought. ‘Hmm?’ he said innocently.

‘You were looking at me.’ Sherlock replied matter of factly, his eyes fixed on the corpse.

‘No I wasn’t.’ _God, I sound like a petulant five year old._

_‘_ Well I’m done now anyway.’ he said, placing his magnifying glass back in his pocket. They moved the man back into his cubicle as he had been before and tidied up everything. Sherlock put his coat and scarf back on and walked towards the door. 

‘Well, thank you for your body.’ he said as he was halfway out the door, turning back to wink at John.

‘It wasn’t my body.’ John replied, seconds after the door had closed. _But it might’ve as well been_ he thought, remembering the way Sherlock’s body had looked, crouched over the autopsy table. He shook the image from his mind and picked up his tuna sandwich. After a moments hesitation, John found himself throwing the sandwich in the wastebasket. 


End file.
